


The End

by NOT_Abacat_Naphi (NOT_Kirie_Goshima)



Category: Railsea - China Mieville
Genre: # Captain Naphi Did Nothing Wrong, Angst and Feels, Animal Death, Character Death, Crack Relationships, F/F, Gen, Humiliation, Hurt No Comfort, Monologue, No Sex, Poor Naphi, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5895529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NOT_Kirie_Goshima/pseuds/NOT_Abacat_Naphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirty-nine years after the ending of Railsea, Naphi dies. Naphi dies, disgraced, demoted, without captaincy nor dignity--Naphi dies with only fading memories of her glorious former self and the skeletal remains of her decades-long chase to remind her that at least, she used to be great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I ship Sirocco and Naphi and they are married in this fic, but it's not the main subject of the fic, so if you don't read stuff that's shippy, don't worry, this fic is safe. 
> 
> [whispers] the ship name is...either Salvage-Captain, Travicat, or Siraphi.

**_Unknown Date, 9360_ **

                It seemed that dying was something someone could sense. People know when they’re dying. Abacat Naphi could feel it in her bones, she had hours left. She was ninety-nine years old, nearly a hundred. In that near-century, she’d done quite a bit, accomplished more than most trainspeople ever could. She’d been famous. _Beyond_ famous. In the church of Mary-Ann the Digger, she was St. Abacat. Saint! Patron saint of philosophy! There were songs, books, even legends about her. Statues of her. Schools named for her. All this did most certainly make Naphi feel quite grand, quite grand indeed. & grand she was. Unfortunately, all this seemed like nothing to the former captain every since, oh, thirty-some, forty years ago.

                As soon as she realized she was dying, Naphi had been quick to go to her wife & insist they go somewhere. _Take me to the bridge_ , she’d said. _The chasm. You know where I am talking about_. Travisande had understood, of course; she’d also been there at the infamous bridge, the one where Naphi had lost her captaincy, her dignity,  & her philosophy. Why on Earth her dying wish was to spend her last moments there was beyond the old salvor, but she complied.

To the bridge & the chasm they went, Naphi not wearing any of her old-looking dresses, but rather her traditional outfit, the trench coat & cargo pants & combat boots she’d worn as the great Captain Naphi. Her hair was tied up again, even though she’d gotten into the habit of wearing it down. She’d even brought her harpoon, & her false prosthetic around her left arm. These things were all important for the scene she had decided to set up. She didn’t look like the great captain anymore. She was so much older, more hunched over, less muscular, less confident, graceful, majestic—but without her traditional apparel, she didn’t think she could face what was down the chasm. How could she dare?

                So many memories rushed to Naphi’s conscious mind when she reached the chasm. Awful memories. Horrific memories. This chasm had been used to take the most important part of her life from her, & then she had tried to take her own life by going down it. This chasm was the place of her downfall, & the downfall of something—no, decidedly some _one_ —else. Nowadays, people came here to gawk. _Look_ , they’d say. _This skeleton used to be the greatest moldywarpe in the world_. A tourist attraction for the town of Paradise, it was. Thankfully, the place was completely empty.

                “Travisande?”  
                “Yes?”  
                “When I go down there, I want you to close the chasm. Use explosives, whatever you must. Understood?”

Now, Travisande was crying in earnest.

                “Am I not going down there with you?”  
                “Do you really want to watch me die? Please, just do this for me.”

The younger woman agreed. The pair barely managed to say their goodbyes, on account of crying; yes, Naphi was, too; but eventually, Naphi managed to pull herself away & climb down.

                The bottom of the chasm didn’t look the way Naphi thought it should. It should be burnt, charred, & littered with metal parts. The ruined angel was nowhere to be seen. Somebody, or a group of somebodies, had ‘cleaned’ it out! All of the nerve! Naphi found herself crying again, tears of anger this time. People were awful. People were really, really awful.

                There was, however, one thing that seemed right: the skeleton. It was there. Massive, the size of one of those giant buildings one finds in large cities. Its bones were the same color as its fur had been when it was a living thing; this was what remained of the great mole. Perfect, untampered with. Nobody had defiled it like they’d defiled its resting place. Naphi smiled through her tears, & strode over to it.

                “Look at you, my old friend…enemy…whatever. What has become of you? Some attraction to be gawked at by comers & goers to & from Paradise! I would mock you for it, but we are, really, in the same jollycart, you & I. They did it to me, too. They made you a source of entertainment, & they made me a ghost. Ah, now, I remember when we were great. You were the biggest & most powerful of moldywarpes, prey & philosophy to I myself, the greatest & most majestic captain! How we mighty have fallen! Truly disgraceful, shameful, awful. I feel that the way you & I are viewed nowadays goes against some fundamental law of nature.”

The ex-captain sat down, leaned completely against a massive rib-bone. She was smiling nostalgically, as if she thought the mole—or rather, the mole’s skeleton—could hear her. Could agree with her.

                “I suppose some might say I won, you know. You went down before I did. Does that mean I won, now? I have to disagree. It was not I who killed you, & it is now not you who kills me. We were denied closure by philosophers for another symbol. They made us both pawns in their game. Tools in their shed. They pushed us to the side & took center stage right out from under us! Ha! They should know better, my dear; one cannot separate Ahab from the White Whale, one cannot separate Mary-Ann & her pickaxe, & one cannot separate Naphi & Mocker-Jack. We are each other’s other halves, you & I.”

She paused. Tears streaked down her face.

                “Out with the old, they always say, & in with the new. Make way for the young—& That Apt Ohm knows I made way for them, & you did, too, & look what we got for it! It is time, yes, high time, that we get the respect we deserve. The _closure_ we deserve.  & now, dear Mocker-Jack, if the gods will have us, I shall chase you to eternity in Heaven.”

Naphi laid her harpoon on the ground beside her. Forty years ago, she was going to kill this very mole with that very weapon. Forty years later, it was already dead & the weapon wasn’t functional anymore. Smiling as she hadn’t done in years, the once-great captain drew her last breath.

                Not an hour later, the chasm was completely filled in.


End file.
